


The Sun Still Shines While Angels Fall

by Latromi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Beating, Betrayal, Dark Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latromi/pseuds/Latromi
Summary: Crowley goes out with Aziraphale on an anniversary date. The angel has gone to great lengths to ensure today's date is one Crowley won't soon be forgetting.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 85





	The Sun Still Shines While Angels Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/gifts).



> Hello all! This fic was something I wrote for [DreamsofSpike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamsofSpike). She ended up helping me look through it! Big shoutouts to [boughofawillowtree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boughofawillowtree) and [Dacelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dacelin) for giving me feedback as well!
> 
> As always, polite feedback/criticism/reactions are all greatly appreciated!

“And finally… here, Crowley, is where I first met you. You slithered up the wall and right into my heart.”

Aziraphale held Crowley’s hands in his. His eyes were earnest and overwhelming in their intensity.

Crowley looked around at the view, desperate to deflect some of the emotion he was feeling. 

“We’re on a skyscraper, Aziraphale.” 

“You know where this is, Crowley.” Aziraphale leaned in and kissed Crowley on the cheek, right over his blush, which only made him flush more at the gesture.

Crowley did know where they were. This was the edge of the garden of Eden, once. 

There was no storm on the horizon as there was the day they met. The weather was perfect; just as nice today as it had been for the first seven days of Earth’s existence, before they met and the rains began to fall. 

It was beyond cheesy that Aziraphale insisted on travelling to every place they’d ever had a meaningful encounter throughout their long friendship. Well, the ones still left standing, anyways. Many of them were approximations; the earth and its attractions were ever changing. The changes had always bothered Aziraphale, but had always suited Crowley just fine.

Today, Aziraphale seemed unconcerned with anything that wasn’t Crowley. Crowley was still mildly surprised that Aziraphale hadn’t appeared at all frazzled by his pointing out that the wall no longer existed, and therefore Aziraphale’s journey through time ended on a slightly less impactful note.

_Still, it_ is _romantic._ But Crowley would be blessed before he ever admitted it to Aziraphale directly. He knew his squirming and blushing at every love declaration or compliment told the angel clear as day, anyways. 

Their lunch location was, of course, The Ritz.

Aziraphale raised his glass of wine midway through his meal with cheer. 

“To the world and to us?” 

“To the world and to us, angel.” Crowley clinked his wine glass against Aziraphale’s, sharing a moment of reflective adoration alongside the fine wine and finer company.

It had been a long, wonderful year since the world hadn’t ended and their relationship had officially begun. A whole year without either of them having assignments to bother them, or requiring excuses to see each other.

Aziraphale was usually the one who made the plans for them. Crowley, indulgent as ever, agreed without question. Today was an important day, and Aziraphale had pulled out all the stops.

All morning Aziraphale was being overly affectionate, almost teasing. Crowley would have been lying if he said he wasn’t starting to get impatient to get home and jump right into bed. 

The angel had dragged him around earth making him blush all morning. Crowley knew returning the favor in the privacy of their bedroom would be the perfect end to their anniversary date. 

And if Aziraphale wanted to surprise him by keeping up being the lead? Aziraphale hadn’t ever been one to initiate in the bedroom, but Crowley would have absolutely zero complaints.

They teleported back to the bookshop after lunch, and Aziraphale didn’t waste a second. Crowley found himself with an armful of angel as Aziraphale devoured his mouth. It was a bit sloppier than normal, but filled with burning passion.

Crowley chuckled and kissed back, enjoying the sweet familiarity of his angel along with new, demanding grasps at his body. Aziraphale drowned him in a shower of light kisses before reclaiming Crowley’s mouth, pulling a moan from the demon.

He felt stranded as Aziraphale stepped away abruptly. There was a mischievous gleam in the angel’s eyes and a delicious quirk to his lips. 

Satan, Crowley wanted him. Why were they stopping? He was about to protest when Aziraphale held out a hand, his body poised to lead Crowley elsewhere.

“I have one more surprise for you, dear. Follow me?”

“Of course, angel.” He managed to keep most of the disappointment out of his voice and adjust to the loss of contact gracefully. Crowley wouldn’t dare refuse or do anything that might cause his angel to doubt his enjoyment. He took Aziraphale’s hand and allowed himself to be led. He expected to be taken upstairs, but instead Aziraphale gently pulled Crowley toward the back room.

Crowley _was_ a tad disappointed they weren’t headed in the direction of a mattress, but the pleasant surprise of Aziraphale continuing his dominant streak was winning out by a longshot. 

“It took a lot of planning!” Aziraphale placed his hand on the door handle and beamed like he had just blessed someone to have a perfect day. The angel rarely wore pride confidently, but except for a brief flicker at the start of his words, there wasn’t an ounce of doubt in his eyes or posture.

Confident, controlling Aziraphale was alluring and sexy beyond anything Crowley could have imagined. He wanted more of it, but quickly shelved his lusts in favor of fully engaging with whatever Aziraphale was about to show him.

“Oh? Are you _finally_ showing me what you’ve been busy working on?” His eyebrows rose in interest. 

Aziraphale had been busy for _weeks_ leading up to today. More than once Crowley had called Aziraphale up to invite him out, only to be told that he was sadly unable to join. Twice, the angel had turned Crowley away mere steps beyond the bookshop’s entrance. He teased that Crowley would find out what he was working on soon and sent the demon on his way back out the door.

They’d exchanged just a handful of words in comparison to the previous months since becoming free from their opposing sides and forming their own. Since they’d been more or less adjoined at the hip since the world hadn’t ended, it was slightly odd that Aziraphale had insisted that Crowley keep his distance for so long. 

But it was obvious the secret was _for_ him, so Crowley eventually relented and allowed Aziraphale the time and space he clearly needed. Crowley knew he’d find out in due time what it was his angel was hiding, once Aziraphale was ready.

“Yes. I apologize it took up so much time.” He frowned with concern. “I do hope you like it.”

_No, angel. I’m sure it’ll be damn near perfect, whatever it is._

A lazy, affectionate look settled across Crowley’s features. “I don’t think you _could_ surprise me with something I didn’t like, angel.”

Aziraphale grinned wider and turned the knob, then stepped aside so Crowley could enter the room before him.

Crowley was not at all prepared for the door to swing open and reveal the Archangel Fucking Gabriel hanging by his wrists in the center of the room.

“What do you think?” Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, urging the demon to enter the room rather than linger in the doorway. His voice was bright with joyous anticipation.

Crowley looked at the Archangel. Gabriel was naked, bound and gagged. The Archangel looked completely terrified out of his mind, his eyes were squeezed shut, head lowered in defeat in a display that was entirely at odds with Gabriel’s typical nature. The cuffs around his wrists were engraved with an ancient language, no doubt binding his powers. 

Gabriel was also covered in bruises and welts on his back, upper arms, thighs, and buttocks. That definitely didn’t help the whole being terrified part. The poor sod was trembling like one of Crowley’s plants. Crowley couldn’t exactly blame the guy, considering he likely believed that neither of them could be destroyed, and that he was entirely at their mercy.

“What do I think? Angel, I-” He had no idea what to say, only a myriad of questions that he knew would be better off saved for later once Gabriel wouldn't overhear. 

How long had Gabriel _been here?_ And Aziraphale was _beating him?_ How did Aziraphale restrain an _Archangel?_

What in Hell was this?

His eyebrows rose, face all innocence as he lightly mused aloud, sounding almost nonplussed that Crowley wasn’t expressing immediate joy over his surprise. “I just thought... what with today being a very important anniversary… that we could enjoy a little revenge?” 

Aziraphale moved over to Gabriel and ran a hand through his short, dark hair before grasping it and tilting Gabriel’s head back. 

Gabriel’s eyes opened upon being physically manipulated, then widened fearfully as he saw the demon. He attempted to shake his head in disbelief, his startled eyes darted between the two of them before lingering on Crowley's face with wary concern. Slowly, his focus moved toward the open door beyond the demon. Gabriel stared at the exit longingly before directing his attention back to Crowley, expression pleading. 

When Crowley gave him no feedback, he looked to Aziraphale instead, still desperately imploring for reconsideration. Aziraphale glared down at the Archangel and lowered his voice, still musing, but darker.

“I think it’s wise to remind him that he wasn’t so clever after all. He thought working with the enemy would get him what he wanted, and it did not. I think a reminder to keep out of all our future plans would do nicely, no?”

Gabriel winced as if the words stung, violet eyes turning down and away, tinged with shame. 

Crowley looked at Aziraphale and could see hope in the angel’s eyes. He released Gabriel’s hair and fumbled slightly with his hands in the way he always did when worried he would be turned down. Satan damn him… Aziraphale was actually serious. 

This was one Hell of a temptation if Crowley let himself think about it.

Six thousand years this prick had put Aziraphale down, and one year ago he would have destroyed Aziraphale if they hadn’t swapped bodies.

_Is this why Aziraphale is so in charge today? Riding the high of kicking Archangel ass? Would do that to anyone, I bet._

Aziraphale walked over to his desk, which was cleared of books and now stored a lineup of tools equally fitting in one of Hell’s torture rooms or a BDSM catalogue. Crowley was relieved to see that most of Hell’s more dangerous and disturbing favorites were absent.

_I’m a bloody demon. It’s not very demonic to turn down a torture session._ _Can’t have him thinking I wouldn’t be eager to do just as much damage as my angel’s already done, yeah?_

And Crowley hated to admit to himself that, yeah, he _did_ want Gabriel to suffer for daring to harm his angel. Gabriel was the source of so much of Aziraphale's mental anguish, self-hatred and doubt that Crowley still found himself untangling the webs that clung to his precious angel’s heart.

Crowley was highly miffed that Aziraphale hadn’t run any of this plan by him before dropping it in his lap like this, but it was clear that _whatever_ this was… it was important to Aziraphale.

_If it wasn't important to him, he wouldn't have chosen today to do this. He wouldn’t have hidden it and made such a big production out of something that he didn’t truly need._

Crowley took an inward look at the negative emotions he was feeling. His frustrations with Aziraphale right now wouldn’t _be happening_ without Gabriel. The Archangel had been sowing the seeds of his own destruction for millenia, and now Aziraphale was handing Crowley the watering can.

His angel never did have much of a green thumb, but if Crowley could care for all the plants that had slowly appeared within the bookshop, then he could do this too. Crowley would be blessed, damned, then blessed again before getting in the way of something that was important to Aziraphale. 

_Aziraphale rarely wants help, so I'll damn well help._

He joined Aziraphale by the desk and looked over his options. Aziraphale lit up and clasped his hands together in excitement as Crowley reached for a wooden paddle.

Best to start with the basics.

Gabriel shook his head and struggled away as far as the chain in the ceiling would allow once Crowley turned toward him, paddle in hand. 

Crowley moved in, slowly circling the Archangel as ideas formed within his mind. Gabriel tried in vain to stay away from Crowley while keeping the demon within sight. The links of chain above him began bunching up as he twisted, making it pull tighter at his wrists and shortening the distance he could evade Crowley. 

They both glanced upward before locking eyes, aware that Gabriel's struggles were working against him.

Before Gabriel could spin the opposite direction to give himself more length to work with, Crowley gripped Gabriel’s upper arm. The Archangel tried to shake his arm free while Crowley moved to stand behind him. Gabriel stilled once Crowley was out of sight. He craned his neck to try and see the demon, and was barely able to with his arms framing his face. 

Those violet eyes were frantic, shifting intensities of color with the mix of emotions that flickered across his face. Shock and dread both appeared in the moments between a look that was a clear plea for mercy.

_Mercy he never_ once _gave Aziraphale. Mercy I sure won’t be giving him now._

Despite his clear distress, the Archangel was eerily silent under the gag. He didn’t make a single whine or sound to accompany his desperate expressions or movements. Crowley looked toward Aziraphale with one brow raised, questioning.

The angel shrugged. “I didn’t care for the fuss he was making, and he didn’t run from _me_.” 

Aziraphale turned a sharp look toward Gabriel and snapped his fingers. A bar appeared between Gabriel’s legs, holding them open. It swiftly attached to the floor directly below the chain above, preventing Gabriel from squirming away.

Now free to release his hold on the Archangel, Crowley stepped back and assessed what Gabriel had already been through. All the damage that Aziraphale had caused was chaotic. There was no rhyme or reason to it; a bruise here, a welt there. Crowley had no intention of being as disorganized; if he was going to do this at all, then he wanted Aziraphale impressed with the results. 

His angel deserved perfection in both plants and punishment.

He was surprised how oddly undisturbing it was once he got started. He’d witnessed enough torture in Hell and never enjoyed it - loud in a very not fun way, in his opinion. There were far more amusing, less scarring, and yeah, even pleasurable ways to make people cry out.  
  
But without the screaming or noises? The rhythmic impacts became almost hypnotic for Crowley. Aziraphale watched raptly as Crowley methodically worked over one of the most powerful beings in the universe. That last fact alone could have been enough for most, and it _was_ a rush if Crowley bothered to think about it for long, but all it took for Crowley to get the motivation he needed was Aziraphale.

Approval and lust shone in Aziraphale’s eyes, encouraging Crowley to go harder. To punish Gabriel for every cruel word he’d ever spoken to Aziraphale. Then, for every negative thought or hesitation those words had ever caused in his angel.

He remembered every time Aziraphale had come to him with a frown and repeated what Heaven told him. He remembered every time he had nearly lost Aziraphale because his angel had struggled for approval they would never give. He saw Aziraphale strive for perfection that Crowley had admired and basked in for centuries, but Heaven would never acknowledge.

Gabriel’s struggles now were nothing compared to the struggles Aziraphale had been through - was still recovering from. 

Yeah, there was something to this arrangement. It might not be something he’d go through the trouble to repeat or even have set up in the first place, but damn if there wasn’t an appeal now that he was participating.

Aziraphale watched Crowley switch between tools and stayed mostly standing in front of Gabriel. He would tilt Gabriel’s face up by the chin to see his expression better whenever the Archangel tried to hide. Aziraphale didn’t seem interested in what Crowley was doing so much as in how it was affecting their captive. He drank in and savored every muscle twitch and censored noise clearly reflected in Gabriel’s violet eyes.

As long as Aziraphale appeared so extremely pleased, Crowley was willing to indulge his angel. Crowley stepped back to end it all more than once, and Aziraphale would hold out a new tool, pleading, hungry for more. He said nothing in these moments, but Crowley could hear him clearly, words oft-spoken when he was down and needed cheering up.

_“Another little treat couldn’t hurt, could it?”_

_“You wouldn’t think ill of me if I had just one more, would you, Crowley?”_

_“Crowley, dear, I know I’ve already had so much, but would it bother you terribly if I admitted I don’t want to stop just yet?”_

When Crowley was finished and Aziraphale had his fill, Crowley was panting, sweating from exertion. Gabriel’s backside was a dark, rich galaxy of swirled bruises from the paddle, interspersed with angry comet tail welts from a few different canes and whips. It wasn’t quite as satisfying a final product to look at in comparison to Crowley's interstellar works, but it had taken no less attention to detail to create.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and Gabriel collapsed to the floor; the chain holding him up and the bar spreading his legs both vanished with the sound. That glimmer of confidence was back in Aziraphale now, full force. 

“Have you learned your lesson? You aren’t the most powerful one in this room. You never were. You are lucky we don’t just destroy you.”

Gabriel nodded rapidly. He didn't even bother to look up at them.

“Very good. Stay here. You won't like what we'll do if you try to leave."

Crowley couldn't help feeling just a tad guilty for being inexplicably drawn to Aziraphale's self-assured tone and posture.

The Archangel sobbed silently as he nodded once more, curling in on himself and hiding his face against the floorboards. He had been crying off and on for some time, but with neither of them able to hear the noise, it hardly mattered.

What mattered was the depth of emotion in Aziraphale’s eyes when the angel looked up at Crowley like he was the last meal on earth.

Aziraphale held out his hand yet again, and Crowley once again took it without reservation.  
  
This time, he was tugged up to the bedroom, and gently shoved onto the bed. Crowley’s interest in the sexual had waned with Gabriel in the room, but now up here, alone in their bedroom, his arousal from before sprang back to life. Everything from just before felt surreal, like a hallucination or bizarre dream. Crowley was sure it was real, he could still feel the exhaustion in his limbs, but the intensity of his focus on Aziraphale caused the odd detour to fade rapidly into the distance.

His angel had lost none of his burning passion from earlier. If anything, Aziraphale was _more_ commanding than he had been, and Crowley was soaking in every detail, every sensation.

Aziraphale made short work of his clothes. Crowley managed to get Aziraphale down to a mostly unbuttoned shirt and his pants by the time the angel had finished undressing Crowley. Trousers and suspenders, and a vest over the shirt? The race was hardly fair for Crowley; Aziraphale wore too many clothes. He did his best to keep up and reciprocate, and under normal circumstances he would have simply miracled his way to victory. Something felt wrong about cheating today though. The tussle was new and exciting enough that winning was hardly the point. Maybe the beating had drained him more than he was willing to admit, too.

_No, don’t think about him. Not here. Not now. He’s an Archangel, he’ll be fine. Focus on Aziraphale._

Crowley gave Aziraphale a sensual smile. “You’re feisty today, angel.” 

“Seeing you do all that for me, Crowley…” He leaned down and kissed Crowley, slow and loving, expressing through actions before pulling back. “I have to thank you properly, don’t I?”

“I’m not going to have to beat up an Archangel to get feisty Aziraphale in the future, am I?”

“Oh, good heavens, no!” Aziraphale laughed against his chest, breath warm, teasing. “With the anniversary I just came to some realizations, that’s all.”

“Oh? Do tell, angel, but please, don’t stop.” Crowley couldn’t stop his hiss on the sibilants as Aziraphale teased a finger around his entrance.

Aziraphale didn't pause his movements, but did glance away briefly into the distance as if considering exactly how to word his thoughts. The angel never seemed to lose his ability to speak his mind effectively; Crowley both envied and admired that trait. “Just that his power over me was a lie, dear. I didn’t want him to forget how much stronger _we_ are.”

Crowley hummed in delight in lieu of a direct response as Aziraphale penetrated him with a single digit. “Speakin’ of stronger, how’d you get him chained up down there anyhow?”

“You really want all those details _right now_?” The angel made his point clear with a coy smile and curve of the finger inside the demon. “I could just…” Aziraphale slowly withdrew the digit, pretending to stop.

Crowley let out a mixed growl and moan as he reached to prevent Aziraphale’s retreat. “Mm’fine. You win! Details later. Was surprised you didn’t take part just now.”

“I wanted today to be about _you_ , Crowley. I had my fun already.” He tilted his head, then gave Crowley a seductive look. “I'm having even more fun right now.”

Aziraphale bent down, closed his mouth on the tender inside of Crowley’s thigh and bit down, then sucked hard. Crowley’s hand flew to grip Aziraphale’s hair in surprise, groaning at the sensation. He felt his cock throb and precum well to the tip, which only made him cry out again.

_Bloody hell, yes, angel._ This _is the kind of torture I've been waiting for._

Crowley whimpered when Aziraphale stopped the wonderful attack at his noises and kissed the mark he'd just caused. 

“My apologies, dear. I was overcome. Seeing you leave such beautiful marks…” Crowley could feel the angel's breath hot against his skin as he let out a nervous laugh, clearly embarrassed at his own impulses.

“Angel, if you think about stopping I cannot possibly express how broken you’ll leave me. Please, don’t bloody _think_ about stopping.”

Aziraphale smiled against the spot he created, then pulled his head back, running a finger over it. He slid his teasing digit from within Crowley and instead set out to decorate Crowley’s pale body with color. 

Crowley couldn’t keep still under the attack. Aziraphale held him in place with ease. Crowley laughed, cried out and squirmed in delight as Aziraphale toyed with his skin and manhandled him in a way Crowley didn’t think he could _ever_ get enough of. He had spent countless stretches of time watching Aziraphale lavish attention on his books, and on his meals, and now that attention was pointed directly at him in a completely undeniable way.

Aziraphale wasn’t bashfully going along with Crowley’s advances and indulging Crowley. He was finally treating Crowley with the same intense adoration, the same desire he displayed with all the things he loved in life. Aziraphale was indulging _himself_ without reservation, and Crowley was over the moon at the thought.

Only, Aziraphale seemed to slowly become concerned with all of Crowley’s struggles. He pulled back and Crowley growled in frustration at the loss. He reached up to try and pull Aziraphale back down with no success.

“Are you positive you are enjoying this, my dear?”  
  
“For the love of… _Yes, angel._ Have you taken a single glance at how hard I am?”

“If you can't keep yourself still…" Aziraphale snapped his fingers and a set of handcuffs appeared in his hands, "then how would you feel if I just… had my way with you?”  
  
Crowley's eyes widened at the cuffs. They were the same as the ones Gabriel was still locked in downstairs. He knew he would be powerless until Aziraphale released him. Crowley felt his muscles flex involuntarily at the very thought. Aziraphale knew how much this meant; Crowley had drunkenly mentioned it a handful of times. 

He didn't think Aziraphale would ever offer it.

Yes, absolutely he did want it. He pulled Aziraphale down to kiss his angel, to shower him with a barrage of all the emotions that were flooding his soul.

“Please," he gasped against Aziraphale’s lips. His angel kept right on kissing him while he maneuvered Crowley’s arms up to the headboard, threading the chain around the bars at the top that definitely didn’t exist prior to this afternoon. Did Aziraphale miracle those there with the cuffs? Had they been there the whole time?

It really did not matter. The shackles clicked closed around his wrists and Crowley felt his powers cut off. All his exhaustion from beating up Gabriel weighed much heavier on his body now, without any demonic energy. He felt the control on his corporation fade away. His eyes were fully yellow now and his tongue elongated and forked.

Crowley shivered with anticipation as Aziraphale sat up, straddling his hips. He gazed down at Crowley, eyes clearly thinking of all too many options and wanting all of them at once. The contemplating look made a brief return before Aziraphale seemed to make up his mind.

“Shall we continue?” That quirk of Aziraphale’s brow had made Crowley do so much for Aziraphale through the ages, and the rush of arousal Crowley felt at knowing he was about to do whatever Aziraphale wanted and have absolutely no say in it now was exhilarating.

His brain was completely hazed over from lust. Another, more abstract emotion he couldn’t quite name made his mind docile, nonverbal. He settled on nodding fervently to express himself.

“Wonderful.” Aziraphale dove back in and doubled down with his attentions.

Crowley had never felt so helpless, yet so safe and cared for. He had heard of humans enjoying this, but never dreamed Aziraphale would give it to him, and Aziraphale was the only one who ever could. 

Aziraphale was the only one Crowley had ever had. Aziraphale was the only one who knew, and the only one Crowley trusted.

Pain was pleasure and Aziraphale covered him in love bites, then revelled in pressing on them and seeing which ones made Crowley’s eyelids flutter the most, or made him groan the hardest. Aziraphale hovered both fingers and mouth tantalizingly close to his cock, but denied Crowley the sensation he craved.

Part of his mind didn't want it to end. Crowley would be more than happy to be teased for days if that's what Aziraphale wanted. His angel could miracle over a book and absentmindedly run hands over his body while he read and Crowley would love every moment of it.

The other part of Crowley's mind was eager for every scrap of pleasure Aziraphale would give him, for Aziraphale to lovingly ravish him and drive them both over the edge until words lost all meaning. Crowley didn't know if it was possible but wasn't the saying, 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again'? Aziraphale knew quite a few languages and never seemed to lose his words; it could take a while. 

Then again, neither of them technically needed to eat or sleep… 

When Aziraphale finally pressed a finger back inside him, Crowley was beyond ready for more. He rocked his hips and urged Aziraphale on. His angel greedily added another finger right away.

A third finger joined the first two much too quickly, and strangely without any lubrication, miraculous or manufactured. Crowley let out a highly undignified yelp and shifted away as best as he was able. 

“Slow down, angel! Use a little lube, yeah?”

Aziraphale tilted his head. “Did you not want me to have my way with you?”

Crowley did not like how pointed, almost offended Aziraphale sounded. 

“O-of course I do, angel, but you don’t have to be mean about it.”

Aziraphale smiled and stroked a hand up and down Crowley’s thigh. His tone sounded like a hollow mimicry of adoration. “You’ve been such a perfect little demon for me, though… Giving pain…” Aziraphale slowly pushed the three digits back inside Crowley and did not stop the painful thrusting, stretching movements, “…Receiving pain.”

Darkness slowly crept into his voice, unsettling beyond the words themselves.

_Does he think I'd get off on this? Or does_ he _get off on it? We never really talked about this stuff, but it's Aziraphale… I didn't think we'd need to._

He frowned, tried to hoist himself up the bed by his arms to evade Aziraphale’s touch, but found his ankle grasped and yanked back down the mattress. 

"Hey!" he snarled defensively. Aziraphale gave him a surprised, confused look; his hand stilled. Crowley immediately felt bad. He sighed, his expression relaxing. “Look, Aziraphale… I think maybe we should shelve the roleplay for another time. Talk about it first, instead, yeah? It means a lot that you'd offer, but I think we've got some wires crossed, here."

Aziraphale was calm, his features neutral. He blinked a couple times, voice sounding as if everything was oh so obvious and Crowley had missed a memo. “What's there to talk about? Demons are all just beings of suffering, Crowley." The force behind his hand increased, pushing deeper. "So, come on then, suffer a little for me.”

“Is this a joke? It’s not funny, Aziraphale. Knock it off! I’m serious! Lemme go!”

The relief Crowley felt when Aziraphale pulled his hands back to himself was immeasurable. Crowley was doing everything he could to hold onto the anger he felt. He knew the very second he allowed himself to focus on what this really meant, his heart would collapse under the pressure. He needed to go cry into copious amounts of alcohol. After that, even a century long emotional avoidance nap might be too short.

_Maybe this is all a nightmare. Maybe I'll wake up. The Gabriel thing was weird, yeah? Yeah, that's right, must be dreaming. That's why he stopped. Aziraphale wouldn't ever really… I don't believe that. Just a bad dream._

_But how do I wake up?_

He glared at Aziraphale and bit his words out through the clench of bitter betrayal. 

“Good. Thank you. Now, unlock these.” He rattled the handcuffs for emphasis. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and sighed, displaying a disturbing lack of concern. He finished unbuttoning his shirt and shifted out of his pants.

_No. It won't actually happen. I'll wake up. Any second now. I'll go see Aziraphale and everything'll be fine._

Crowley had lost all arousal with his distress and was not at all pleased to see that Aziraphale was quite literally dripping interest in continuing. 

_That's ridiculous… Aziraphale would never…_

"Aziraphale… angel?" Crowley's voice was wary; he continued to glare at Aziraphale with angry golden eyes.

Aziraphale returned Crowley's glare and said nothing. He shifted forward, gripping Crowley’s body with brutal strength hard enough that Crowley was sure there’d be marks to heal later. 

_Wake up now, please._

Crowley was beginning to have doubts about reality. This might not be a dream after all. And if this wasn't a dream, then… what hope did he have left? His tone shifted to desperately begging. "Aziraphale… please don't. Whatever I did. Whatever I said. I-I'll fix it. Just tell me what you want. Talk to me. Please don't do this."

Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed Crowley on the cheek, over a tear Crowley hadn't even felt slide down his own face. The angel licked up the line that the single fallen drop had left in its wake. He whispered in Crowley's ear as he lined himself up.

"I want you just like this, _my_ _dear."_ The normally affectionate pet name was bitter, twisted to be insulting. He gave Crowley no time to wallow in the suffocating affliction of his words; Aziraphale thrust forward, the splitting pain immediately unbearable and terrifyingly real.

_I'm not dreaming. This isn't a nightmare._

“No! Azira-”

Aziraphale’s gaze shifted to Crowley’s mouth and removed his ability to make noise. He found himself muted exactly like the Archangel downstairs. Crowley winced and struggled, but there was nothing he could do under Aziraphale’s crushing handholds while his powers were restrained.

He turned begging, sorrowful eyes on Aziraphale once the angel set a slow, agonizing pace of thrusts.

“Oh, don’t make that face, dear. You brought this on yourself.” Aziraphale shook his head in disappointment and spoke in a chastising manner. “It’s a shame, really. You were making such wonderful noises before.”

Tears began to steadily flow down his cheeks. Crowley felt his face flush with embarrassment and shame.

_Why? Why, Aziraphale? What did I do to deserve this?_

Crowley wept as Aziraphale held him down, his movements gradually increased in tempo. The angel was clearly enjoying himself. His eyes slid shut and his expression was one Crowley had seen over far too many dinner tables.

The look of blissful indulgence.

It no longer sent Crowley’s heart soaring to be the focus of this _love_. His heart was crushed, ripped apart, trampled, unrecognizable.

Aziraphale exhaled, contented. “Oh, Crowley, I want you to know that I almost didn’t do all this. I didn’t really think you were worth the trouble.”

_What? Please stop talking. I don't need to know this. I don't want to know this. Please… just fuck me and let me go._

He stilled his movements and opened his eyes. Aziraphale reached down, gently wiping away tears. A disgusting, repulsive look of _love_ was back on his features, and within his voice. 

“I see now how wrong I was. We might have to do this every year. You’ve got appeal, sunshine.”

_Sunshine?_

Crowley's stomach dropped. Sorrow slipped away through the cracks left by the heavy impact of disbelief wrapped in dread.

Aziraphale sighed, then feigned innocence. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say that out loud?” He snapped his fingers.

Violet eyes replaced Aziraphale’s normal blue, his shoulders broadened, muscles expanding and body becoming more toned. The cock still penetrating Crowley grew in size, stretching him even more painfully. 

Gabriel looked down at Crowley with a sly, satisfied grin. 

“I figured out your trick, sunshine. Pretty useful stuff!”

Crowley gaped up at the Archangel, horror consuming him.

_The date… all the things Aziraphale told him, the positive attention, the cheesy descriptions, the compliments, the flirting… it was_ all Gabriel _. The hottest foreplay that I’ve only_ dreamt _of having with Aziraphale. Yeah, it means Aziraphale didn’t_ actually _do or say any of the bad things but-_

_Oh Go- Sat- Someone._

_Aziraphale._

_If_ this _is Gabriel…_

Gabriel began to move once more, adjusting to the new, firmer grip his larger size afforded. 

Crowley howled at the top of his lungs and no sound came of it. His struggles were easily thwarted as Gabriel laughed and increased his pace to seek climax. Crowley glared up at Gabriel through tears. The Archangel was unconcerned with anything not related to his own twisted desires.

Finally, Gabriel found release. He pulled out of Crowley, snapped his clothes back on and the handcuffs out of sight. He patted Crowley’s thigh gently and gave the demon a smile.

“Happy Anniversary, sunshine. See you soon.”

Gabriel vanished before Crowley could snap his own fingers to undo the sound block on himself. After snapping away the mute, he looked down at his body and tried to remove all evidence of the brutal encounter with the Archangel.

It took several attempts before finding success there. Miracles were a mind over matter type of artform. He had to close his eyes and really focus hard enough to pull it off. He snapped one final time to clothe himself in something casual, loose enough to not remind him of being grabbed and held down by Gabriel, but not baggy.

He desperately wanted to lay in bed and go to sleep for as long as he could. A full century seemed like a joke, now. Maybe when he woke up, he’d be able to purchase a flying Bentley. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang had nothing on Bond though, as far as Fleming works…

_Bloody hell, Crowley,_ focus.

Crowley dragged himself from the bed, He stumbled his way down the stairs, his muscles weak from struggling and movement less than graceful from the vivid memories he’d just lived through. The injuries were gone. The pain was gone. His body would just stubbornly refuse to move normally for a while.

As he approached the back room of the bookshop, he heard a steady noise. A Snap, snap, snap that made Crowley’s stomach twist in a knot as he swung open the door.

Aziraphale was hunched over his knees on the floor. He was naked, and sobbing, and snapping his fingers over and over. Crowley could see the damage he had caused covering the angel’s back. 

Nothing changed with Aziraphale's attempts to miracle the wounds away. Aziraphale had never been very good at visualizing restoration miracles - he’d get carried away and add or improve things at random, or he’d simply fail to find success at all. How personal the damage was tended to be the deciding factor. He was miserable at fixing the things that truly mattered to him.

They were both fortunate that Crowley had always been able to do anything for his angel. Although he didn’t feel proud of that anymore, now knowing the damage it could cause in a perfect storm.

Crowley knelt down in front of Aziraphale and gently closed his hand around the one poised to snap again, preventing Aziraphale from making the movement but not firmly enough that the angel couldn’t pull away. He was relieved when Aziraphale’s shoulders just shook harder. 

Crowley took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then snapped to remove the sound block. Aziraphale’s heartrending sobs flooded their senses. 

_Oh, Crowley, fuck up some more why don'tcha? That's not gonna make healing your damage any easier._

Aziraphale looked at the hand holding his, then up at Crowley. He fell forward into Crowley’s arms. The reassurance that his angel could still find comfort in his presence felt entirely undeserved whilst gazing down upon the damage he'd wrought. Crowley snapped his fingers to heal Aziraphale's wounds.

He wasn't surprised when it didn't work. It had taken him more than once to heal himself. Aziraphale didn't know that, though, and only cried harder in his arms when it was clear the attempt wasn't successful. 

“I’m sorry, Crowley.” Aziraphale wept, despondent.

“No, Aziraphale, please don’t say that.” Crowley held him close, gently soothing through Aziraphale’s curls. “None of this is your fault.”

Crowley tried again. He could feel Aziraphale shift in his arms, anticipating relief and once again finding none.

"Just leave it, Crowley." Aziraphale's voice could barely be understood through his tears. "Clearly I-I don't deserve-"

"Like Heaven I'm leaving you like this, Aziraphale." In his rush to interrupt Aziraphale, Crowley allowed too much of his frustration and self hatred to slip into his tone. Aziraphale wilted at the harsh words, and Crowley smoothed the rough edges of his voice with an exhale. He softened himself to a whisper. "I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you, Aziraphale... I caused this. I promise I'll fix it."

He snapped again. Still nothing. Aziraphale's tears increased. Crowley knew that with every snap that brought no relief, Aziraphale was no doubt solidifying his belief that the damage _should_ remain. He leaned down and kissed Aziraphale on the head. 

"It's not you. You didn't do anything to deserve this, angel."

The wail of hopeless anguish from his angel made Crowley debate removing his own hearing to focus better. It was an awful feedback loop; every sob from Aziraphale only made Crowley more doomed to failing his next attempt, and each failure upset Aziraphale more than the last.

Finally, Crowley succeeded; he stroked a calming hand down the angel's healed back. Aziraphale initially tensed up at the touch, but soon relaxed in his arms. 

Crowley was relieved he didn't have to resort to blocking his own senses. He didn't want Aziraphale to feel any miracle succeed before the one that healed his injuries.

Aziraphale began trembling, terrified. “He- He made me tell him everything, and once he finished one… I couldn’t, Crowley. I told him whatever he wanted to know. I stopped fighting, I wasn’t strong enough. I should have just let him take the other. But I just-”

“Wait, Aziraphale, holdup. What do you mean? What did he take?” Crowley leaned back and tried to get a view of his angel's face.

Aziraphale shook his head, pressing against Crowley's chest, tears flowing more steadily. 

“You can’t heal it anyway. There’s no point.”

He gripped the back of Crowley's shirt like a lifeline; Crowley hated how that reminded him of things he knew Aziraphale didn't do.

“Please, ang-”

“Please don’t call me that.” Aziraphale’s voice went flat and hollow, horrorstruck.

Crowley blinked, confused. _Why wouldn’t he-_

_Oh no…_

Crowley already knew what the answer was going to be, but he _had_ to ask, had to know for sure. He didn't think there was more hope left in him to be shattered. Crowley never wanted so wholly to be wrong.

“Aziraphale… Did he take one of your wings?”

Crowley felt Aziraphale go still in his arms. Aziraphale was always moving, pacing, fidgeting, fussing, shifting and wiggling. A still Aziraphale was never good news.

Blue eyes slowly looked up at him. Aziraphale was biting his lip. His jaw quivered, holding back tears with only moderate success; two still streaked down his cheeks.

Aziraphale nodded slowly, then reburied his face in Crowley’s shoulder.

_Fuck._

He'd trade his own away if he could.

“You’re- you're right, I-I can’t heal that.” Crowley's voice was strained. It was difficult to speak. His chest felt tight, his stomach uneasy.

_Aziraphale said he_ _should've let Gabriel take the other wing_.

Crowley was trying so hard to be strong for Aziraphale, but he broke down too. "I'm so sorry, Aziraphale."

_“I think it’s wise to remind him that he wasn’t so clever after all. He thought working with the enemy would get him what he wanted, and it did not. I think a reminder to keep out of all our future plans would do nicely, no?”_

They never needed a reminder. They were happy. They were together, not bothering anyone.

Gabriel had corrupted Crowley’s memories of all the places most important to him and Aziraphale during their fake date; it was just wonderful enough in the moment to make Crowley disgusted with himself for being blinded to the reality. All the little imperfections should have told him something was wrong.

Gabriel had crushed Crowley’s dreams and desires by acting out fantasies that only Aziraphale should have been able to share with him. Fantasies that Aziraphale would never be able to be the first to give him now, if Crowley could ever bring himself to want them again. The uncharacteristic confidence shouldn’t have been a turn on, it should have been a warning.

For a few harrowing minutes, Gabriel even made Crowley believe Aziraphale truly didn’t love him, and was capable of inflicting the most unthinkable act of cruelty unto him. He believed Aziraphale betrayed him in the worst possible way, and Crowley knew he would be fighting the urge to retreat from his angel. With that final act, Gabriel had taken away Crowley’s ability to confide fully in Aziraphale. 

_No, Aziraphale can’t ever know the truth. He’d find some way of blaming himself for Gabriel’s lies and it’s my fault for not seeing through it, for believing it... not Aziraphale’s._

Those offenses alone already felt insurmountable. Taking one of Aziraphale’s wings was so much worse. Crowley hated himself a little at wanting to sleep for a century after _his_ encounter with Gabriel. 

It didn’t even begin to match up with what Gabriel had done to Aziraphale.

Gabriel had spent every interaction reminding Aziraphale what a terrible, pathetic excuse for an angel he was, and now? Gabriel had torn in half the proof that Aziraphale was an angel at all.

Crowley leaned his face in close to Aziraphale, his voice choked with emotion. “You’ll still always be one to me, Aziraphale, but I won’t call you that anymore if it’s what you want.”

Aziraphale nuzzled up against Crowley, the sides of their faces pressed together. “Just catch me when I fall, Crowley. Please?”

“You… know this isn’t going to make you fall, Aziraphale.” Crowley pulled his face away just long enough to clear both their faces of tears. He didn't even notice he'd miracled up a handkerchief for the task until he pressed the side of his face back and lowered his hand. Aziraphale never liked the texture of disposable ones.

“Then help me with the other one?” 

Crowley winced at the thought. “One wing or none won’t change that. You know that, an- Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale looked into his eyes, hopeless and lost. “I don’t want to be one anymore. I don’t… Not when he’s…”

“I know, I know.”

Crowley tried his best to comfort Aziraphale. They held each other, both of them taking turns crying, then moved to the sofa and continued to hold each other. He ran fingers through Aziraphale's hair, miracled him cocoa and blankets.

There were moments he looked down and saw the wrong version of Aziraphale - Gabriel's haunting performance. It made Crowley want to push Aziraphale away on impulse, so he forced himself to breathe and hold on. Things would never get better if he didn't embrace the truth, no matter how difficult that might be at times.

_We have forever. We'll get better. We have to._

Gabriel’s words kept invading Crowley’s mind, reminding Crowley that his self-assurances were lies.

_“I see now how wrong I was. We might have to do this every year. You’ve got appeal, sunshine.”_

_“I just thought... what with today being a very important anniversary… that we could enjoy a little revenge?”_

_“Have you learned your lesson? You aren’t the most powerful one in this room. You never were. You are lucky we don’t just destroy you.”_

There was never a lesson to be learned. They were never the most powerful and Gabriel was right about that.

Crowley couldn’t help feeling that destruction might be mercy, and Crowley had seen first-hand that Heaven, and specifically Gabriel, had none of that to spare.

_“Happy Anniversary, sunshine. See you soon.”_


End file.
